Friends, Feathers, Family.....
By Wayne Olivier
Long before I had children, I had dogs. Like many people, they were like my children. One of my dogs was a Maltese named Nicky. Nicky was 5 pounds dripping wet, and he was my baby. I took my Nicky everywhere with me. I could not imagine life without him. My dear friend, Bruce Fletcher knew how much little Nicky meant to me. One night, when Bruce and I were talking on the phone, he told me a story that changed my life.
The story was that of a women who took her little Yorkie for a walk one evening, in the upper peninsula of Michigan. When they got out of her car, she could not figure out why her beloved dog was acting so out of character. Then it happened..... Her precious dog was attacked from above by a silent, flying, huge predator! The dog was grabbed by the huge talons of a Snowy Owl that was sitting on the light pole in the parking area. The women was able to disrupt the attack and persuade the owl to fly off, but after some serious holes were left in her little dog. She rushed her dog to the local veterinarians house, and thank goodness he was home. The dog survived, and born out of fear that I developed for my Nicky, was my thirst to learn more about owls.....
Bruce lived in Marquette MI, where I had grown up. He and my Father, Tom Olivier, had been friends, at that time, for about 42 years. Bruce has been my friend my entire life. He has added so much to my life. Bruce introduced me to the theater, classical music, and BIRDING!
My birding started with just that story. I read everything I could about birding, especially owls. Feeders were put up at my house, I went owling, I even went on a Christmas bird count in Traverse City MI, where I was living at that time. I could not get enough. I asked Bruce a million questions. He then told me of a great place to go birding. A place in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan called Whitefish Point Bird Observatory. It is a great place to watch and learn about hawks, and not too shabby when it comes to Owls. I had to go there to check it out.
In 1996 I made my first trip to the " point" by myself, and I knew immediately I had to go back. In the mean time, my Father was getting hooked on his back yard birds. He may have been the first person to have a Northern Cardinal in his backyard in Marquette. We will never know for sure, but we knew he would be game for a trip to the point. There was one more link in the chain of my birding heritage. He is my godfather, one of my children's godfather, Bruce's best friend for about 52 years, at that time, and the man that I am named for, Mr. Wayne Thompson. Wayne has also watched birds for many years. I don't know for sure if Bruce introduced Wayne or Wayne introduced Bruce It is not part of their relationship to one up one another. My Father and his buddies are true friends in every sense of the word. What a lucky man I have been, to spend my life with my Father and his friends.
Spring Fling 1997 was our first trip to Whitefish Point Bird Observatory together. We have attended 16 of the past 18 years. We have seen so many fantastic birds throughout the years that there is no way to describe how many, or what bird was the best. We have learned a lot. The talent there is hard to comprehend. It is only surpassed by the friendliness of everyone that we have encountered. As we made our lists, Bruce was tough. We had to be able to identify a species, without a doubt, or we could not count it. We had a few beers throughout the years, some headaches at 6 am going out to the very cold "point" to see if the owl banders had a prize to show us. We even played some golf.
During that time I was very busy having 5 children of my own. I could not wait for my oldest son, Alec, to be old enough to join us at the point. When he was 4 years old, we let him come with us. This was amazing! Not only was it awesome having him with us, but he loved the birds. He was especially interested in the owls. A chip off the old block. A great memory is leaving the hotel at 6 am, with snow falling , Alec leading Bruce and I to the car. Bruce just shook his head and said, "he's a savage." I will never forget this time with the 3 of us. All of my children have been to the point for many years. Four of my five kids have released an Owl at the point. To see my children birding with my father and his friends is truly a thrill. You see, Wayne, my father and Alec are always in the lead. Bruce, myself and Nick bring up the rear. And, my wife, Julie is somewhere, hopefully seeing birds, with Elysa, Dipper and Yale. My son, Alec dreams of being a waterbird counter. His brother, Nick, wants to be a hawk counter, and they both would like to band the Owls as well. The knowledge all of my children have developed about birds and nature is inspiring. My wife and I have thoroughly enjoy watching and learning from our children. And they do teach us now as their skills progress beyond ours. We have made many new friends, added to our lists of birds, but most importantly, we have had lots of quality time together.
My mentor and friend, Bruce Fletcher, passed away July 16th, 2014. Thankfully, we were all able to go together to the point, one last time in April. The "big 4", my wife and children where all there. My journey started 18 years ago with Bruce, Wayne and my Father - my friends!! We have enjoyed thousands of Birds together - Feathers!! My wife Julie, children Alec, Elysa, Nick, William "Dipper", and Yale have ensured that this journey with birds, that started with a story of a dog and an owl, will live on through them for many years to come. My family.
This story is dedicated to our leader: Bruce Fletcher: birder extraordinaire... We love you Bruce! It will never be the same without you, but we will keep the lessons you taught us, as we continue our journey birding.
By Wayne Olivier
Long before I had children, I had dogs. Like many people, they were like my children. One of my dogs was a Maltese named Nicky. Nicky was 5 pounds dripping wet, and he was my baby. I took my Nicky everywhere with me. I could not imagine life without him. My dear friend, Bruce Fletcher knew how much little Nicky meant to me. One night, when Bruce and I were talking on the phone, he told me a story that changed my life.
The story was that of a women who took her little Yorkie for a walk one evening, in the upper peninsula of Michigan. When they got out of her car, she could not figure out why her beloved dog was acting so out of character. Then it happened..... Her precious dog was attacked from above by a silent, flying, huge predator! The dog was grabbed by the huge talons of a Snowy Owl that was sitting on the light pole in the parking area. The women was able to disrupt the attack and persuade the owl to fly off, but after some serious holes were left in her little dog. She rushed her dog to the local veterinarians house, and thank goodness he was home. The dog survived, and born out of fear that I developed for my Nicky, was my thirst to learn more about owls.....
Bruce lived in Marquette MI, where I had grown up. He and my Father, Tom Olivier, had been friends, at that time, for about 42 years. Bruce has been my friend my entire life. He has added so much to my life. Bruce introduced me to the theater, classical music, and BIRDING!
My birding started with just that story. I read everything I could about birding, especially owls. Feeders were put up at my house, I went owling, I even went on a Christmas bird count in Traverse City MI, where I was living at that time. I could not get enough. I asked Bruce a million questions. He then told me of a great place to go birding. A place in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan called Whitefish Point Bird Observatory. It is a great place to watch and learn about hawks, and not too shabby when it comes to Owls. I had to go there to check it out.
In 1996 I made my first trip to the " point" by myself, and I knew immediately I had to go back. In the mean time, my Father was getting hooked on his back yard birds. He may have been the first person to have a Northern Cardinal in his backyard in Marquette. We will never know for sure, but we knew he would be game for a trip to the point. There was one more link in the chain of my birding heritage. He is my godfather, one of my children's godfather, Bruce's best friend for about 52 years, at that time, and the man that I am named for, Mr. Wayne Thompson. Wayne has also watched birds for many years. I don't know for sure if Bruce introduced Wayne or Wayne introduced Bruce It is not part of their relationship to one up one another. My Father and his buddies are true friends in every sense of the word. What a lucky man I have been, to spend my life with my Father and his friends.
Spring Fling 1997 was our first trip to Whitefish Point Bird Observatory together. We have attended 16 of the past 18 years. We have seen so many fantastic birds throughout the years that there is no way to describe how many, or what bird was the best. We have learned a lot. The talent there is hard to comprehend. It is only surpassed by the friendliness of everyone that we have encountered. As we made our lists, Bruce was tough. We had to be able to identify a species, without a doubt, or we could not count it. We had a few beers throughout the years, some headaches at 6 am going out to the very cold "point" to see if the owl banders had a prize to show us. We even played some golf.
During that time I was very busy having 5 children of my own. I could not wait for my oldest son, Alec, to be old enough to join us at the point. When he was 4 years old, we let him come with us. This was amazing! Not only was it awesome having him with us, but he loved the birds. He was especially interested in the owls. A chip off the old block. A great memory is leaving the hotel at 6 am, with snow falling , Alec leading Bruce and I to the car. Bruce just shook his head and said, "he's a savage." I will never forget this time with the 3 of us. All of my children have been to the point for many years. Four of my five kids have released an Owl at the point. To see my children birding with my father and his friends is truly a thrill. You see, Wayne, my father and Alec are always in the lead. Bruce, myself and Nick bring up the rear. And, my wife, Julie is somewhere, hopefully seeing birds, with Elysa, Dipper and Yale. My son, Alec dreams of being a waterbird counter. His brother, Nick, wants to be a hawk counter, and they both would like to band the Owls as well. The knowledge all of my children have developed about birds and nature is inspiring. My wife and I have thoroughly enjoy watching and learning from our children. And they do teach us now as their skills progress beyond ours. We have made many new friends, added to our lists of birds, but most importantly, we have had lots of quality time together.
My mentor and friend, Bruce Fletcher, passed away July 16th, 2014. Thankfully, we were all able to go together to the point, one last time in April. The "big 4", my wife and children where all there. My journey started 18 years ago with Bruce, Wayne and my Father - my friends!! We have enjoyed thousands of Birds together - Feathers!! My wife Julie, children Alec, Elysa, Nick, William "Dipper", and Yale have ensured that this journey with birds, that started with a story of a dog and an owl, will live on through them for many years to come. My family.
This story is dedicated to our leader: Bruce Fletcher: birder extraordinaire... We love you Bruce! It will never be the same without you, but we will keep the lessons you taught us, as we continue our journey birding.
WPBO trips during April
By:Alec Olivier
This April I traveled to the Whitefish Point Bird Observatory twice. I added 17 big year birds from these trips. I saw two life birds too. My life bird on the first trip was a Short Eared Owl, and on the second trip was a Spruce Grouse. I was five minutes late on seeing an extremely rare loon. My first trip was on April 11th and 12th. The best bird was a Short Eared Owl. The owl bander's caught a Boreal Owl, which was awesome. While waiting outside, we saw an American Woodcock. The next day on the way out to the point I saw a Golden Crowned Kinglet and a Hermit Thrush. When we got to the point I saw a flock of Red Crossbills. On the hawk deck I saw a Barn swallow and Northern Harrier. I also saw a Brown Headed Cowbird.
By:Alec Olivier
This April I traveled to the Whitefish Point Bird Observatory twice. I added 17 big year birds from these trips. I saw two life birds too. My life bird on the first trip was a Short Eared Owl, and on the second trip was a Spruce Grouse. I was five minutes late on seeing an extremely rare loon. My first trip was on April 11th and 12th. The best bird was a Short Eared Owl. The owl bander's caught a Boreal Owl, which was awesome. While waiting outside, we saw an American Woodcock. The next day on the way out to the point I saw a Golden Crowned Kinglet and a Hermit Thrush. When we got to the point I saw a flock of Red Crossbills. On the hawk deck I saw a Barn swallow and Northern Harrier. I also saw a Brown Headed Cowbird.
We adopted another owl. It was a Northern Saw Whet owl that we named Thompson.
My second trip was on April 25th through the 27th. I added 8 new bird. The first day I had four, which were Tundra Swan, Northern Pintail, Golden Eagle and a Common loon. I only saw 1 new bird on the second day. That was a Caspian Tern. The last day, I had three, which were Pine Warbler, Swamp Sparrow and a Spruce Grouse. On the second day, I missed out on a Pacific Loon.
They also captured a immature Northern Goshawk
African Pied Crow
Photo Taken by Harvey Gagnon
The Crow Man
By:Harvey Gagnon
We have had five family crows over the years and on different continents; two in North America, two in Africa, and one in Turkey. All were named smokey.
Two were unable to stand, hence could not take off or land, due to the effects of afflatoxins found in moldy grain. After a visit to the vet's, we fed them for three weeks, they recovered, and, after a couple of crash landings, flew again. Hopefully, more wary of what was good to eat!
Two were wounded by hunters, which made our mom, Aloha, seriously angry "Because," she said'' if you kill it, you eat it.'' No discussion. Both times it was a shattered wing. One was a compound fracture to the upper bone but the vet correctly said it would heal and only droop slightly. I was surprised, because you could clearly see the exposed bone. The other one was a lower wing break hanging by the tendon. I held him while mom snipped it with the toenail clippers and cauterized the bloody stump with a small soldering iron.
The compound fracture smokey, we think, was a female due to a comparison of the most frequent sounds she made with some long term studies of corvids in a library book. She found a home in Escanaba, Michigan, with another crow and a one winged Golden Eagle.
The amputee Smokey lived in Turkey where my dad built a ladder from the window ledge outside her cage to the house roof. Since my sister had a cat, dad made the ladder with only one vertical leg. When the five pound cat tried to climb the ladder it rolled him off, when the one pound, one-winged Smokey hopped up, she was safe. In the autumn when crows, flocking south, would caw overhead, Smokey would spiral down from the roof like a helicopter with a missing tail rotor! A French girl with leukemia adopted that Smokey when we left for Africa.
We lived on a farm in Kenya, East Africa, and had many pets. Besides cats and dogs, we had two pet pigs, four horses, two duikers, a bush baby, and a pied crow. The African pied crow may be related to ravens, as lune source says they have successfully cross-bred with Somali ravens. They are more handsome than any corvids I have seen in any book--tuxedo black, with a white shirt and collar, ready for a night at the opera. Ours, however, came to us as an ugly fledgling. He had fallen out of the nest one windy day, was rescued and sold to my younger brother, Rob, by an African boy for the price of a piece of sugar cane.
Of course we named him Smokey the Fourth. Of course mom chewed up his boiled egg breakfast and spit it into his soft beak. Mom has always worn bright red lipstick. Later, if a visiting lady was wearing lipstick, he would land on the lady's shoulder, and flutter his wings and nuzzle his big black beak between her lips. Most of hem liked the attention and would shrill "Oh! He's kissing me! He likes me!" Our dear family friend Olava was his favorite.
In addition to being "Romeo-bird in a tuxedo," he was an accomplished thief, stealing Rob's tiny Dinky Toy cars, and any small gyrator parts I would take my eye off of as he sat on the steering wheel watching every move I made. We always found these items hidden in the rafters of the outhouse as long as we did not yell and chase him. If we did, he would laugh at us and drop the item in the tall grass where it was hard to find.
When our sister, Linda, and her school friends were learning to knit they would walk around trailing balls of yarn. You would hear them scream "Mom! Smokey has our yarn and is wrapping it around the trees!: Mom would come out trying not to laugh, clap her hands and scold him. He would make one of his "Haw-Haw" noises, since he only make human noises at this stage, and drop the yarn.
Instead of a washing machine, we had a washer girl named Mani-lou. Her duties were to build a wood fire under a cauldron of water next to the kitchen and sun herself in the crass till the water got hot. Then soap, stir, pound, rinse, and hang up the clothes to dry-- in time for another nap in the sun. Smokey would wait till she was resting, land on the clothesline, and walk up and down leaving red mud crow prints on the white sheets. Then he would laugh while bobbing his head up and down. He was NOT Mani-lou's favorite.
Neither was he a favorite of Linda's cats, especially the fat bully Tommy-luvins who used to gulp down his food and chase his skinny brother Timmy-luvins away and eat his food too. One day both cats were being fed ten feet apart in the courtyard. Smokey landed in front of Tommy and walked confidently towards his dish. Tommy growled and raised a claw. Smokey took one step back, cocked his head to the right and to the left, jumped into the air landing behind Tommy's outstretched tail. One strong pull on Tommy's tail had both crow and cat digging for traction. Cat whirled slashing, crow topped high, snatched the cat food and in a split second Smokey was on the clothesline dining happily. After much yowling the bully went to beat up his skinny brother who had had time, for once, to finish his meal.
At first, he did n't know how to caw and made only an alarm noise when visitors came, and muttering noises rising from our dad's deep tones to my siblings' higher ones. Each morning Smokey would greet the sun, muttering away so that it sounded like several people were holding a meeting in our yard-- men, women, and children voices.
We went to Iran for nine months to be with dad. During this time she wrote us a letter to say that Smokey had appeared one day with a mate. When we returned to Kenya to sell the farm, Mr. and Mrs. Smokey reappeared within an hour of our arrival. The day we left the farm for good, Smokey flew above the car two farms away before turning back to his nest--leaving his featherless family in the old Chevy with stinging eyes.
By:Harvey Gagnon
We have had five family crows over the years and on different continents; two in North America, two in Africa, and one in Turkey. All were named smokey.
Two were unable to stand, hence could not take off or land, due to the effects of afflatoxins found in moldy grain. After a visit to the vet's, we fed them for three weeks, they recovered, and, after a couple of crash landings, flew again. Hopefully, more wary of what was good to eat!
Two were wounded by hunters, which made our mom, Aloha, seriously angry "Because," she said'' if you kill it, you eat it.'' No discussion. Both times it was a shattered wing. One was a compound fracture to the upper bone but the vet correctly said it would heal and only droop slightly. I was surprised, because you could clearly see the exposed bone. The other one was a lower wing break hanging by the tendon. I held him while mom snipped it with the toenail clippers and cauterized the bloody stump with a small soldering iron.
The compound fracture smokey, we think, was a female due to a comparison of the most frequent sounds she made with some long term studies of corvids in a library book. She found a home in Escanaba, Michigan, with another crow and a one winged Golden Eagle.
The amputee Smokey lived in Turkey where my dad built a ladder from the window ledge outside her cage to the house roof. Since my sister had a cat, dad made the ladder with only one vertical leg. When the five pound cat tried to climb the ladder it rolled him off, when the one pound, one-winged Smokey hopped up, she was safe. In the autumn when crows, flocking south, would caw overhead, Smokey would spiral down from the roof like a helicopter with a missing tail rotor! A French girl with leukemia adopted that Smokey when we left for Africa.
We lived on a farm in Kenya, East Africa, and had many pets. Besides cats and dogs, we had two pet pigs, four horses, two duikers, a bush baby, and a pied crow. The African pied crow may be related to ravens, as lune source says they have successfully cross-bred with Somali ravens. They are more handsome than any corvids I have seen in any book--tuxedo black, with a white shirt and collar, ready for a night at the opera. Ours, however, came to us as an ugly fledgling. He had fallen out of the nest one windy day, was rescued and sold to my younger brother, Rob, by an African boy for the price of a piece of sugar cane.
Of course we named him Smokey the Fourth. Of course mom chewed up his boiled egg breakfast and spit it into his soft beak. Mom has always worn bright red lipstick. Later, if a visiting lady was wearing lipstick, he would land on the lady's shoulder, and flutter his wings and nuzzle his big black beak between her lips. Most of hem liked the attention and would shrill "Oh! He's kissing me! He likes me!" Our dear family friend Olava was his favorite.
In addition to being "Romeo-bird in a tuxedo," he was an accomplished thief, stealing Rob's tiny Dinky Toy cars, and any small gyrator parts I would take my eye off of as he sat on the steering wheel watching every move I made. We always found these items hidden in the rafters of the outhouse as long as we did not yell and chase him. If we did, he would laugh at us and drop the item in the tall grass where it was hard to find.
When our sister, Linda, and her school friends were learning to knit they would walk around trailing balls of yarn. You would hear them scream "Mom! Smokey has our yarn and is wrapping it around the trees!: Mom would come out trying not to laugh, clap her hands and scold him. He would make one of his "Haw-Haw" noises, since he only make human noises at this stage, and drop the yarn.
Instead of a washing machine, we had a washer girl named Mani-lou. Her duties were to build a wood fire under a cauldron of water next to the kitchen and sun herself in the crass till the water got hot. Then soap, stir, pound, rinse, and hang up the clothes to dry-- in time for another nap in the sun. Smokey would wait till she was resting, land on the clothesline, and walk up and down leaving red mud crow prints on the white sheets. Then he would laugh while bobbing his head up and down. He was NOT Mani-lou's favorite.
Neither was he a favorite of Linda's cats, especially the fat bully Tommy-luvins who used to gulp down his food and chase his skinny brother Timmy-luvins away and eat his food too. One day both cats were being fed ten feet apart in the courtyard. Smokey landed in front of Tommy and walked confidently towards his dish. Tommy growled and raised a claw. Smokey took one step back, cocked his head to the right and to the left, jumped into the air landing behind Tommy's outstretched tail. One strong pull on Tommy's tail had both crow and cat digging for traction. Cat whirled slashing, crow topped high, snatched the cat food and in a split second Smokey was on the clothesline dining happily. After much yowling the bully went to beat up his skinny brother who had had time, for once, to finish his meal.
At first, he did n't know how to caw and made only an alarm noise when visitors came, and muttering noises rising from our dad's deep tones to my siblings' higher ones. Each morning Smokey would greet the sun, muttering away so that it sounded like several people were holding a meeting in our yard-- men, women, and children voices.
We went to Iran for nine months to be with dad. During this time she wrote us a letter to say that Smokey had appeared one day with a mate. When we returned to Kenya to sell the farm, Mr. and Mrs. Smokey reappeared within an hour of our arrival. The day we left the farm for good, Smokey flew above the car two farms away before turning back to his nest--leaving his featherless family in the old Chevy with stinging eyes.